Espada Del Sol
by SpartAl412
Summary: In the midst of the eternal struggle between the armies of the Empire and the Hordes of Chaos, a young Pistolier seeks to prove himself worthy when a Knight of the Blazing Sun joins their campaign against the minions of the Dark Prince.


'All right gents listen up!' bellowed the Sergeant; we stood to attention in a serried group all nice and disciplined like toy soldiers. He wore an ornate breastplate depicting a skull wreathed in laurels over his uniform of yellow and purple, his bald head was exposed and glistening to the sky like polished metal. The sky above was as gloomy as the mood of the rest of the lads and who wouldn't be? Another army of savage northmen were marauding about the Ostermark, how the hairy bastards got passed the Kislevites I have no idea. The voice of Outrider Sergeant Metzger sounded as if drums were pounding next to my ears and what little light from the morning sun stung my eyes, by Sigmar I shouldn't have drunk so much last night.

'Today I got some good news for you lads!' continued the Sergeant 'We are to be joined today by a member of one of the Knightly Orders!'

My eyes widened in surprise at his words and I could hear the surprised voices of the lads around me, the Knights! Finally this would be my chance to prove my worth and to ascend to the ranks of true prestige. My mind raced with possibilities, perhaps the Knights of the Panther? Or the Wolf? No those Middenheim bastards are not really to my liking, we are fighting the northmen so that rules out the Blackguard, a shame really. I hope it would be the Order of the Vengeful Sun; it would be exciting to ride one of their Demigryphs.

'Now you lads better show some proper respect!' bellowed the Sergeant once more. The Sergeant then stepped aside and turned about-face drawing his sword to salute, as one my regiment made space and drew our swords and lifted them in salute. Despite the height of Pieter in front of me, I could see over his shoulder the approaching two figures riding upon horses.

One was bearded and pudgy old man riding upon a black horse which looked as if it had also eaten too much grain and not enough time to gallop. His robes were white with a golden trim patterned after the sun, a priest of Myrmidia, I then realized what Order will be joining us. I heard the gasps of awe from my comrades; I admit that I also almost missed my own at the sight of our guests.

Striding forwards besides the priest upon a chestnut-brown Destrier, strode the Knight, clad in black lacquered armor and decorated with a burnished golden trim which was stylized like that of a sun, a Knight of the Blazing Sun. He was a glorious sight to behold; his armor was decorated with many small golden sunbursts with semi-precious stones inlaid into the centre. His face was covered by his helmet which carried the upper half of a semi-circular sun upon the back as if it were rising along with a magnificent plume of yellow and black feathers.

His Kite Shield which bore a Brettonian design depicted the goddess Myrmidia, clad in a gilded archaic suite of armor which resembled a style I once saw a picture of in a book regarding the history of ancient Tilea, she wielded a spear in her right and a sword in her left, under Myrmidia was a scroll which spelled something out _Sapienze per Dovere_, I have no idea what it means. Most gloriously though was his spear and sword, the former had a black shaft and with its golden head patterned in a waving style while the latter, even though I could only see its hilt was designed as well with a typical cross pattern and gilded with burnished gold.

'May I have your attentions Mein Herren' said the priest as if he were addressing a congregation at temple service, all of our eyes eventually turned to him. 'I am Father Goetz of the Temple of Myrmidia, and this here' he said with his right hand gesturing to the Knight as his left held the reins of his horse 'is Ser Luca Herman, Knight of the Blazing Sun. Ser Luca raised his spear high in salute to us and we responded by raising our sabres as well a tinge of excitement rushed through my very being.

While the Order of the Blazing Sun were odd for worshipping a foreign goddess, I must admit I have been to a temple of Myrmidia and she is quiet the looker, apparently she also had once been mortal too like mighty Sigmar, so that must be good too. I have heard stories of the Knights of the Blazing Sun, how they travel the world saving towns and villages from monsters and perfecting their skills in the art of war. If anything I think if I can impress this Knight I may already be on the path of becoming a General one day.

'Mein herren may wish to know' continued the priest 'is that Ser Luca will be fighting alongside and observing you all in the coming battles. To those of you who prove worthy, you will be invited to join the Order of the Blazing Sun.' I smiled at the old man's words and I am sure my comrades felt the same; this is what each of us Pistoliers dream of, to earn the notice of the Orders and to become a Knight.

'Also, you all must know as well that Ser Luca has recently arrived from a quest in Estalia and had been required by the Myrmidian Order of _La Hermandad Silencia_ to take a six month-long vow of silence after a battle against a Vampire incursion against their monastery in Magritta, as such Ser Luca cannot speak until the vow is completed.'

Seemed like an odd vow to make but whatever, I was already set on impressing this knight and I am sure a lot of my fellows felt the same, seems like I will really have to step up my performance today.

* * *

Later that day the Huntsmen in our army reported of a large rabble of northmen east of our camp, orders came in from General Kessel that he wanted us Pistoliers to harry their advance, fine by me, as long as I got myself on the back of a horse I doubt the savage bastards could even catch me if they tried. At the Corral of our army where we were getting ready to ride out, I found myself gently stroking the muzzle of Bern, my horse. Already the old boy was saddled up, fishing into one of my pockets I removed a ripe red apple and gave it to Bern, the horse whinnied in pleasure and began to munching on it from off of my hand.

'All right lads!' shouted the voice of Sergeant Metzger 'Saddle up and get moving!'

We all shouted back in compliance, in the first days of our training the officers, most of whom were also noble born veterans had been forced more than a few times to beat in some discipline. Those of us who were less inclined to learn were usually the first ones to do something stupid and get themselves killed in battle. Moving towards the side of Bern, I stepped upon the rickety little wooden stool which I swore would one day give in, placing one foot into the stirrup and putting the other leg over the horse and into the other stirrup; I settled my rump for the ride ahead.

Several stable hands began running up to us and carrying our weapons, the one assigned to my horse was a boy probably a year or two younger than I am. I did not bother to learn the peasant's name but I remembered his face and I offered him a few extra pfennigs to make sure my horse gets better fed than the others, the stable hand eagerly took the coins and at the least he delivered. Handing me my pistols and a pair of pouches one containing the ammunition and the other containing black powder I nodded in thanks to the stable hand who looked up to me with a mix of awe and envy.

Gently kicking Bern into a trot I joined my regiment in riding out of the army camp. It's something really to feel the wind upon your face to see the world pass you by, I noticed there were a number of children from the follower's camp running beside our horses and laughing as they played. There were also more than a few loose haired women waving at us, more than a few I recognized as some of the working girls of whom I myself had paid more than a few visits to, just one more reason to make sure I survive this sortie.

Our company of twenty was later joined by Ser Luca who waited for us at the edge of our camp; the knight raised his spear in salute and quickly had his horse trot into our group. With perfect skill the horse ran to the front of our formation beside the Sergeant without us even needing to stop our horses. Our group advanced over the plains intent on meeting the savage heathens.

An hour after we rode out of our camp and through the grassy plains most of us would be makings bets or boast about who would kill the most or who would make the first shot, but all our attentions and focus were upon being the best damned soldiers our Knightly guest had seen.

We traveled onwards with eyes cast into the distance, it would not be hard for some clever band of northmen to lie in waiting amongst the grass, only to spring up for an ambush, the waiting and watching is something I hear no sane person ever really gets used to. Our first sign of the savages came from distant drums and chants of the northmen followed by that strange mixture of smells. It was an odious mix of heavy perfumes like those of a cheap harlot, blood, sweat and other bodily humors.

Our first sight of the savages were their tall black and pink colored banner which showed the symbol of the dark god Slaneesh, the insignia was surrounded by runes which made my eyes hurt to even look at and I mouthed a prayer to Sigmar for protection.

'Arms at the ready!' shouted the Sergeant and as one, we removed our pistols from their holsters 'Forward Sons of Sigmar!' he ordered and I kicked Bern to a gallop. The thunder of hooves from our horses filled with pride and strength, it was as if we were the invincible heroes of the sagas and legends of old. My heart pounded like a drum in a mix of fear and anxiety, I could feel myself sweat despite the cold morning air and yet at the same time I felt relieved from the agonizing waiting and thrill of what was to come. Spreading out in a loose formation, I found myself in the third of four rows from the left side of our formation, as Bern carried me forwards I was soon able to get a good view of the enemy.

The sight of Chaos Marauders always gets to me; you'd think that for blood thirsty daemon worshipping, rapist savages they would all appear monstrous like the beastmen or a greenskin, instead many of them were simply burly looking humans who don't look that different from the rest of us, only that they have barbaric armor or garments which left most of their bodies exposed with only a few bearing enough mutations to truly stand out.

The savages wore furs and garments of mostly black while some had helmets, pauldrons and shield painted pink; they roared their savage cries in a strange mix or rage and ecstasy. Bearing my pistol towards the savages, I saw I had a clear shot from between my comrades, I heard the voice of the Captain to fire at will and I was quick to oblige.

A series of cracks followed by the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder quickly surrounded me as my comrades opened fire, holding my breath I pulled the trigger of my pistol and felt the recoil a lead ball shot out from the muzzle, propelled by a tongue of fire I watched in deep satisfaction as particularly hirsute heathen I had been looking at stumbled as a bullet struck him in the stomach and was knocked forward and trampled by his fellows. The savages responded by hurling javelins and axes at us, already the Pistoliers at rows ahead of me peeled off to veer around the savages and the thrown weapons of the savages struck only the hard earth.

Steering Bern to my left, I had holstered my first pistol and removed another one from my brace. Swiftly looking to my right, I lifted my pistol up with my arm almost perfectly lining up and I squeezed the trigger once more, another crack with smoke and fire belching forth from my gun and another savage fell down dead. Satisfied with having two hits in a row I holstered my second pistol and reached for my third pistol.

Flanking around the savages until I got behind the group, to which I then steered my horse forwards I unloaded my third and fourth pistol along the way with only the third missing. A spear had nearly struck Bern in the rump and an axe had painfully impacted against my right waist as if someone took a truncheon to it, thank the gods my armor held, but I knew it would hurt tomorrow. Slowing Bern down, I looked back to see probably around half the savages were already cut down by the fire of our guns, the northmen were a good distance away so I decided to begin reloading my pistols.

Pouring powder, and then a bullet and driving a small stick into the tube, I made sure everything was packed in before looking back to see if there were any marauders near my position, satisfied that I still had time to reload the rest of my guns I made sure to pick up the pace. After reloading all of my guns I turned Bern around and kicked to a gallop, I saw most of my fellow Pistoliers had dispersed to reload while only the Captain, the Knight and three other Pistoliers were still engaging the Marauders. I noted that Ser Luca was wielding a light crossbow in his hands; the Knight fired a bolt into a Marauder and quickly placed the weapon into a satchel by side of his horse. The knight then reached for his spear and sword and charged directly into the Marauders.

The Knight's charge was like something from the stories, armed with a spear in his right and his sword on his left, I saw as blood spattered against the knight's armor as his spear was thrust into flesh and his blade flashed swiftly flashed around, slicing throats, arteries and parting flesh, all with a clinical and efficient precision that was graceful to look upon. A Marauder managed to get his hands on the reins of Ser Luca's horse but a shot from the Sergeant's repeater flintlock splattered the savage's brains across the Knight and his steed.

Getting in close myself, I wanted nothing more than to reach for my sabre and follow the Knight's example, but discipline and training kicked in and I raised my pistol forth and squeezed the trigger again. Another savage fell and I could hear that disturbing cry of ecstasy as if the man had reached his climax while in the midst of love-making.

Too late I had spotted a northman armed with a javelin raised his arm up and readied for a throw, I cursed as I saw what he was doing and I tried to veer away, the savage then hurled his weapon. I shouted as searing agony spread across my left waist, the spear had torn through my breastplate and ripped open the flesh beneath; blood began to pour freely from the wound from the wound over my armor and into my trousers and saddle.

With tears barely held back I raised my pistol to shoot the savage, the bastard already had grabbed another spear, pulling the trigger first I watched with satisfaction as blood burst out from the side of the barbarian's neck and he cried out in surprise as he began to struggle for breath. I grinned with satisfaction for the retribution I had repaid.

Bursting out from the band of Northmen, Ser Luca emerged spattered with blood, his armor looked to have been dented in many places and blood poured from rent in a few areas, his horse as well had been sporting wounds and injuries but both the Knight and his mount still looked as if they only done a light exercise, and both looked more than ready to head back into the fray. Already more than half of the savages were dead; another crack from the gun of one of the other Pistoliers and the banner carrier fell, a moan of dismay came from the Marauders and as one they began to flee.

I laughed like a madman as the savages fled and we gave pursuit, it was like hunting for foxes or boars but with much bigger and much slower targets. I put a bullet from my last loaded pistol in the back of a tattooed savage while I ripped the sword out of its sheath and brought the blade down with practiced precision upon neck of another, the marauders head parted and I caught a glimpse of surprise registered on the his face as I passed.

* * *

When the last of the marauders had been slain we cheered the name of Sigmar. Giving thanks to our lord, we began the grisly work of finishing off the remaining northmen. I admit it is one thing to kill a man who is standing his ground and ready to fight back at you, it is another though when he is down on the ground and bleeding out already, but you never know with these chaos bastards, so it's best to put them down when you can.

The first savage I trotted over to was a tall golden-haired and almost too effeminate looking man, his pretty face was ruined by a bullet that burst through his left eye and left a bloody hole in place. Another was a massive man facing down on the earth with tattoos on his back depicting the most lewd things I have ever seen. Getting off my horse I landed on the loamy earth and walked up to the downed man, I gave the savage a kick to the head and heard nothing, just to be sure though I brought my sabre up and thrust it into his head.

Certainly not the mostly glamorous point of my career but a "necessity" as the Sergeant said. I noted the distaste in the eyes faces of my comrades as they made sure the barbarians were dead. Standing over the body of another savage whose throat had been torn out by the Knight's sword, I was somewhat unsettled by the features of the savage, his black hair, the overall shape of his face, his youth, he almost looked like me.

Hearing a groan behind me, I looked back to see one of my mates an older lad named Hans put his pistol to the head of a bleeding and still living savage and he pulled the trigger. With a crack from his gun he ended the barbarian's life. Looking across the field we still had a lot of bodies to check, there were probably twice or thrice the number of marauders compared to our group. Tightening the grip on my sword I knew it was going to be a while before we were done here.

* * *

We returned to the camp by mid-afternoon, we lost only two men in the skirmish, Hans and Markus; I never liked those stuffy bastards anyway. Some of the other lads were injured but nothing I am sure the physicians could not handle. We rode by the follower's camp and they cheered us like heroes, my heart swelled at the voices of the crowd, sure they were probably doing it only because they knew we were nobles and had coin, it felt good nonetheless despite the wound on my waist which hurt like hell.

Riding to the triage pavilions where several physicians, herbalists and Sisters of Shallya were attending to the wounded, I was seated upon a stool and stripped to my trousers while a balding and spectacled old man from Reikland known as Johann Heinz who smeared a foul-smelling unguent upon my wound. It stung and hurt more than the barbarian's spear, and then the old man smeared another handful of the stuff before sticking a needle near the wound and beginning to sew it shut like a piece of torn cloth. It hurt, a lot to say the least.

'You now need rest mein herr' said the doktor in a way which reminded me of a professor in a university while giving a lecture 'no strenuous activities tonight until I look at the wound again tomorrow morning' the old man said with an amused leer, especially at the first part. 'Mein herr also may wish to know that this wound should take more than a few days to heals' continued the old man.

Great, just great, the day I get a chance to be promoted is the day I get wounded enough to be out of the fight. Giving thanks to the old physician, I shakily fished out a pair of shilling from my coin pouch before putting back my tunic and heading out. The damn physician didn't give me anything for the pain, I suppose I shouldn't have asked though, there were some poor bastards about with their guts spilled out who needed that kind of stuff more than me. Leaving the triage pavilion I saw the Knight Ser Luca ride his horse towards the tent of one of the physicians who specialized in treating horses, a profitable career here in the Ostermark.

I saw the Knight lift up his visor and placed a small red colored bottle to his lips, from the distance I could not get a good look at him, the knight then gently closed the visor and dismounted while a group of orderlies took in his horse. To my surprise his wounds suddenly began to seal and I realized with a mixture of awe and dread the signs of alchemy at work. Shaking my head I straightened up and squared my shoulders, time to make a good impression I thought.

Walking up to the Knight, my heart began to beat harder and sweat began to appear on my brow. I was wondering what I should say. Should I salute him first? Should I offer praise and toady to him? Finally close the knight I noticed that he was actually a bit shorter than I first thought, probably even half a foot taller than I am, and at my age I have been told I still have time to grow. At a closer look, his sword as well which was sheathed beside the knight was also shorter than I had thought, still I was intent on my course of action and I would do my damned make a good first impression.

The Knight looked to me and from the eye slits of his visor I could see brown eyes staring at me. Trying to clear my throat as if I were about to give a speech

'Well fought back there with the marauders mein herr' I said with a salute 'I saw you fight and you were amazing'. The knight placed his right fist over his chest and nodded to me, a good sign I think. Oh right he took some kind of vow of silence I was forced to remind myself. The knight then bowed and waved his hand in a gesture of farewell; I bowed as well and hoped I had made a nice enough impression.

Not much to say about what happened the following night, a lot of my fellows went out to the follower's camp for some nightly fun, some of the injured lads as well went out, not me though. The last time I was injured I went out with some of the other pistoliers to see old Magda and her girls, I ended reopening my wound and bleeding all over a harlot's dress, had to pay the coin for the girl and extra for the dress. I wanted to avoid more embarrassment so the only thing left to do is to either try my luck at games of chance, Ranald willing or drink till I get drunk enough to not even care about the wound, and if there is one thing we Ostermarkers know it is to drink.

* * *

'Wake up!' I heard a voice shout 'Wake up! you bastards!' Startled, my eyes opened widely to the dark candle-lit space of our tent as a sharp pain flared from the right side of my rib cage, groaning in pain I looked up to see and hear Sergeant Metzger bellowing out more orders to the other pistoliers. My head felt as if I had been in a boxing match with an orc, getting up as quickly as I could despite my hangover, I felt something hard strike my chest.

'Gah! Sigmar's Beard what the hell sir!?' I shouted as my right hand reached for whatever had hit me, I realized it was my sabre.

'We are and under attack that's what!' replied the Sergeant of whom I noticed was now in full battle gear 'Northmen bastards got us by the balls! At the mention of the Northmen my attentions as well as those of the other pistoliers around me were all given undividedly to the Captain.

'But sir!?" asked another pistolier named Lugo 'how did the enemy get to the camp?'

'I don't know lad' said Sergeant quiet angrily 'but we are going to make them sorry for marching their hairy arses out of the wastes!'

With a worded series of acknowledgments we quickly went about putting on our armor. While it was good to have my sabre me with, I admit I have not had a lot of practice with it lately against a live opponent who would be fighting back rather than running away. What we needed were our guns, and the damn things were in a separate pavilion, damn the General for ordering all the firearms to be confiscated.

'Ready lads!?' bellowed the Sergeant, as he looked back to us

'Aye sir!' we replied in unison, not many I noted sounded enthusiastic, because I sure wasn't. Leaving the tent and emerging into the night air, I saw with horror that Morrslieb was now high in sky. Making the sign of the Hammer and spitting for extra measure, I noted some of the other pistoliers did the same. The camp was a mess of activity, brightly lit by the many torches and lanterns scattered about here and there, armed men were rushing in the direction of the follower's camp while peasant men, women, and children were running off in the opposite direction, stopping to cling to the soldiers and pointing where the enemy was.

Hearing a loud warcry in the barbaric tongue of the Northmen our heads turned in the direction of where it came from to see, much to our collective horror a trio of bearded marauders. Each of the three savages were completely naked, their bodies tattooed with blasphemous sigils, and each one bore clear signs of horrific mutations, what each marauder had in common was that each man had an arm which ended in a monstrous appendage. One marauder armed with an axe in his right had his left arm end in a cleaver like blade, a second man's arm ended in a bony club like stump while the last man had a claw like that of a crab.

The three marauders were heading in our direction and they were coming fast, several foot sloggers charged at them in groups, one swordsman was cut down by Cleaver-man. Club-arm blocked the strike of another and gutted the swordsman with his sword, and a third man was caught in the neck by Crab-claw, effortlessly Crab-claw decapitated the man. A sudden discharge of fire from a flintlock came from the Sergeant and Crab-claw's head exploded in a shower of gore.

'Get going!' shouted the Sergeant as he switched the barrel of his repeater pistol. The two remaining marauders rushed forwards but were assailed by more of our soldiers, not having time to watch I rushed towards the engineers tents along with my fellow pistoliers, it was hard getting through the crowd of soldiers and citizens. I was forced to push and shove my way, past many, and I ended up getting an elbow to the teeth from a surprisingly strong woman. Pain flared through my face as my right hand covered my nose and mouth, anger and rage welled up as I looked for the bitch who struck me. I heard the bark of the Sergeant's pistol again and I put the thought away for another time.

Making my way to the engineer's tents, I saw a group of men in the uniforms of the Handgunners handing out rifles and bags of bullets and black powder to their comrades who rushed off to the battle. Already thick with bodies I tried to get to the front of the crowd until I saw two of my mates emerge. Pieter handed me a pair of pistol along with some shot and powder to which I thanked him, I saw Lugo carrying a blunderbuss as well.

Retreating from the crowd and trying to get clear, I checked to gun to see it was not loaded, cursing I opened one of the powder pouches and someone knocked into me, spilling black powder over my face 'Son of a whore!' I shouted to see who had hit me, but already the person was lost in the crowd, looking into my pouch I saw there was barely enough powder for a shot, I cursed again and looked to my comrades, I saw another of my mates Gunter already shouting to me and saying we have to go. Letting loose a series of profanities I was forced to rejoin the fight with only my sabre and an unloaded pistol.

Pain began shooting through my wound and I knew the wound had re-opened, it would be hard to find one of the healers now, I guess my best bet now would be to pray to Sigmar that I live through this night. Heading back Sergeant Metzger, we found him reloading his gun with while a trail of bodies both of our men which numbered a dozen and the three marauders, who were now lying in the dirt.

'Took you lads long enough' said the Sergeant gruffly 'Stay together and keep an eye out for any Northmen!' he ordered. Following the Captain's lead we advanced towards the follower's camp in a group with a lot of space between us, I was at the back and I noticed many of the lads were looking around rather nervously, as Pistoliers we were trained to fight from horseback and with guns, without our horses to give height and speed, I am sure a lot of us felt vulnerable. Thankfully the crowd had already dispersed with the only ones moving in were the other soldiers who had grouped up into a semblance of formations.

* * *

There have been many nasty things I have seen since the start of this war, but the sight of what I saw at the follower's camp was just sickening. Bodies split of other humans, both adults and children all split open and cut up like we were at a butcher's shop, I saw a group of bodies of piled in horrifically and lewd and suggestive poses, I saw the body of a child lying face down in the dirt with the flesh of its back stripped off like a piece of chicken, to my horror I noticed its spine was missing. There were so many more bodies and I began to feel sick, I keeled over and vomited, over my trousers and boots, I noticed a lot of the other lads began doing so too.

As we approached we heard the clash of arms and the discharge of guns, following the sound of the closest fight we saw as several of our men were fighting with the Northmen, among the state troops was Ser Luca, his spear caught a Northman in the throat as he parried and stabbed another in a swift motion. To my surprise the Myrmidian priest Father Goetz was there as well, the old man held a large mace in his hands which was covered in blood.

Suddenly hearing the roar of more northmen ahead the Sergeant began bellowing orders for those ahead to get behind us, he commanded for us to form a line with him at the center, as we did we saw the Northmen emerge screaming from the darkness and shouting praises to their foul god.

'Fire!' shouted the Sergeant and as one the lads pulled the triggers of their pistols, with a staccato of shots several marauders went down but there were more ahead.

'State troops, advance!' came the muffled deep roar of the General from behind us. Looking back I saw that the General was now clad in a full set of plate armor which depicted a wreathed skull, over it was a sash of purple and yellow, surrounding him were several grim-faced Greatswords, each one with blades at the ready. As one the State Troops advanced into the enemy while roaring the name of Sigmar or Ulric upon their lips. 'Reload Pistolkorps!' commanded the General, as ordered we began falling in behind the Greatswords, already many of the lads were reloading, with more than a few spilling a bit of powder, I noticed the hard look the Sergeant gave me and I mouthed that I had no powder.

Rolling his eyes and grunting with displeasure the Sergeant handed me his pouch, I thanked him and began reloading as quickly as I could, when I finished the Sergeant took back the pouch and ordered us to draw swords and advance. 'Pick your targets and make it count!' he shouted and we began searching for any clear shots. I saw a group of swordsmen struggling against a marauder armed with twin blades which battered relentlessly against their shield, with a sudden crack of a pistol near me the marauder was jerked to the side and was stabbed in the gut and in the side by the swordsmen.

A few more loud cracks came and more northmen fell, lining up a shot I set my eye on a northman wielding a two-handed hammer, the northman knocked a halberdier off of his feet and was about to finish off the downed soldier as his hammer was raised over his head. My gun fired and the northman dropped his weapon and began clutching at his ruined throat which gushed with blood, the halberdier quickly picked up his weapon and impaled the savage in the gut.

Already the General and his Great Swords had engaged the enemy, several of the state troops began rallying around the general, even Ser Luca and Father Goetz were still in the thick of it. After a few more shots most of the lads were out of powder or bullets, we obviously did not get enough at the engineer's. The Sergeant then shouted for us to charge, I nodded feeling disbelief at the Sergeant's orders, 'forwards Pistolkorps, For Sigmar! For the Ostermark!'

Roaring the name of Sigmar we charged ahead into the fray. My heart pounded heavily and terror began to fill me, I wanted to void my bowels but I did my best to keep it in, already I stepped over the bodies of more than a few of our men and the Northmen. In my mind I kept replaying the training sessions from the instructors my father had hired as well as my more recent the swordsmanship lessons from the army. Sigmar help me, I have never been more terrified in my life.

Crashing into the heart of the battle, I thrust my sabre into the side of a an axe wielding marauder who had blocked the attack of a Greatsword with his shield, the marauder cried out in ecstasy as my blade struck him, the marauder gave me a cheery look and was about to strike me with his axe before the Greatsword he fought drove his blade into the savage's chest. The Greatsword nodded in acknowledgment as he kicked the now dead barbarian off of his sworn and quickly swung his blade into the neck of another northman.

I blocked, and parried and struck at the Northmen to the best of my ability, I tried to focused on the ones already engaged in battles against the other men. Hearing a scream of pain, I saw Pieter go down with his legs hamstrung by a skinny looking northman wielding two serrated daggers, the northman looked to me and gave me a toothy grin which reminded me too much of the teeth of a dog, he howled and leapt towards laughing like the madman he was.

Quickly moving into a defensive stance, I rose my sabre and parried one of his dagger while I used my pistol like cudgel, the other dagger then struck my firearm's trigger. The impact pushed me back by a little and I had almost lost my footing, delivering a swift knee kick to the northman's groin I struck the bastard in the balls and he screamed in pain, normally even I would consider such an attack cowardly but it hardly mattered when you are fighting for your life. The Northman dropped his daggers and clenched his genitals, with a swift thrust I drove the tip of my sabre into the back of his neck and he fell face first into the grassy earth.

The kill had been exhilarating; I had just killed my first man in a face to face fight. I began to grow more confident of my chances afterwards. Looking around for another target, I began to smell something that seemed out-of-place in the battle. It was like a perfume but more exquisite than anything I have ever smelled, I noticed men around began to stop in their tracks and they too began to sniff the air. I suddenly began to feel very calm, relaxed, the pain of my wound even began to disappear, I wondered why are we even fighting?

Ahead of us, emerging from the darkness was perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her skin was pale was like the surface of Mannslieb, her hair was golden like wheat and her blue eyes were like a pair of sapphires. She was clad in a beautifully ornate black armor that exposed and showed off her shapely figure, her red lips were curled in a seductive smile which offered countless promises. Gods, I wanted nothing more than to please her, to catch her attention, I would kill and I would die just to see her notice me.

I noticed one of the State Troopers take a step forward; I saw his desire for this vision of perfect beauty. Rage began to build up within me, how dare this peasant think he could even deserve a woman like her! Raising my pistol I pulled the trigger, hearing nothing but a click I forgot that it had no bullets, I will have to do it the old-fashioned way. The woman suddenly stopped in her stride and she cast her gaze at the armored form of Ser Luca, she began to seductively saunter to the Knight her hips swinging and saying something in a language I could not identify.

Jealousy raged once more within me, of course she would want the noble Knight! Every maiden would want one, gripping my sabre tightly, I took another step, I will murder that bastard! Taking another step forward I glanced at a man to my right who was shaking quite visibly, it was one of the Greatswords, funny that the bloody wound on his scalp looked like wine. I noticed his teeth were gritted and it looked like he was thinking hard about something, sweat dripped from his head I wonder what it could be? Oh well I am sure the woman would not choose him.

As I turned to look back at the beautiful woman I heard a high-pitched shriek that caused my heart to skip a beat. To my horror the woman was bent over and in her exposed belly was the spear of Ser Luca! 'Murderer!' I cried and I wanted nothing more than to rush to her aid. Before I could take a step that fiend of a Knight drove his sword through her heart. Suddenly I blinked and realized something seemed different, the calmness and serenity I felt disappeared, I began to feel the pain of my wound again and I looked down to see it had already soaked my trousers, what was happening?

Feeling a bit light-headed, I looked to the Knight who kicked the body of the woman off of his spear, he pointed the bloody weapon at the remaining northmen who stared at him in disbelief, they roared in fury and dismay and attacked, the Knight swung his spear towards the legs of the closest northman and thrust his sword down into the northman's chest before he even hit the ground. Another Northman managed to close in but the bark of rifle from one of the handgunners rang out and the Northman fell, a series of more shots rang out and several more northmen fell. With whatever spell the witch had over us broken, we rejoined the battle once more.

* * *

When dawn came we celebrated our victory, pyres had been set up for northmen to be burned and mass burials for our dead as well. We won, according to the General, the strangely beautiful woman we encountered was the leader of the Chaos Horde. I still couldn't get the image of the woman out of my mind and shame filled my thoughts when I remembered that I could have and even wanted to murder one of our own men.

Lying down on a cot and wearing only a fresh set of trousers, the physicians said I had lost a lot of blood and needed rest. Among the coughs, the moans, and the sounds made by the wounded I heard the clattering steps of someone in plate armor, using my elbows to prop myself up I saw it was Ser Luca heading towards my direction. The Knight was following the Doktor Heinz who then told the knight to remove his armor and rest in the cot beside me, the Knight nodded and placed his hands upon his helmet. Lifting the piece of armor up I was shocked to see ginger hair tied into a bun, the knight then removed a band from his hair and it cascaded down, reaching to his shoulders.

The knight then sat down facing me and to my great surprise, I realized Ser Luca was a woman. Her skin was pale but was of a darker tone compared to most Imperials, like those of Tileans. Her face was rather attractive in a noble and classical sort of way; she looked to be around a decade older than me by the looks of her. Looking down at me I looked at her pretty brown eyes and she raised an eyebrow.

'What? What are you looking at?' She asked, her voice was rich and cultured with a slight Tilean accent.

'Gods…' I said 'you… you are a woman!' I finished with incredulity.

'Well of course I am!' she said 'It is nothing unusual in Tilea or the Order' she then began muttering something in Tilean and began removing the rest of her armor which was heavily damaged. Stripping down into an undershirt and trouser which was soaked with blood and sweat, she noticed me staring and rolled eyes while saying something in Tilean before resting on the cot.

'I…' I began 'I am sorry my lady, I was just surprised.' I apologized

'No harm done' she replied and continued as she sat. I could see that her wounds were more severe than I had thought

Looking away and feeling a bit embarrassed, I cleared my throat and raised my right hand to her 'Gustav' I said 'Gustav Braun, of the Ostermark Pistolkorp'

'Lucia' she said giving me a warm smile 'Lucia Herman of the Order of the Blazing Sun, Luca is just a nickname I often go by'

'Wait' I said suddenly remembering her vow of silence 'I thought you were not supposed to talk for six month?'

She chuckled and gripped my hand while giving it a firm shake 'The Ostermark is a long way from Estalia, and my six months have been completed'

'Now now you all need rest mein herren' came the voice of the Doktor Heinz, in his hand he held a leather case full of medical tools 'You can talk once you are healed but for now you all need rest'. Nodding to the doctor and to the lady knight I rested my head and tried to catch some shut-eye.

* * *

To be continued in Shadows of an Empire


End file.
